


The Wolves who Guard the Door

by aithne



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aithne/pseuds/aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where the Warden and Hawke were the unlucky pair who survived the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and were made Inquisitors, Blackwall is going to have problems keeping his secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolves who Guard the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Solitae and I keep on kicking around this AU where her Hawke becomes Inquisitor and my Amell is the person who keeps the mark from spreading in the first place. Kathil Amell is a professional stirrer of shit and by the time Inquisition takes place she’s more or less in hiding. (The theme of Kathil’s story arc has always been “no good deed goes unpunished”.)
> 
> So this leads to “what happens if the Hero of Ferelden meets Blackwall and realizes what he’s up to? Other than punching out his lights?”
> 
> So that led to this ficlet. 1150 words, and while usually writing characters makes me more sympathetic to them, in this case I liked Blackwall a lot less by the time I finished. Spoilers for Blackwall’s arc.

Blackwall didn’t meet the Inquisitor’s partner until after they arrived in Skyhold. He’d _heard_ about her, of course, but those last days in Haven were so busy, and then the breach was closed and everything happened after that.

A few days after they got to Skyhold, though, that changed.

He’d been helping cart some sharp rubble away from the stables—horses being the silly creatures they were, it was always best to make it harder for them to hurt themselves—and dumping it on the pile in the corner when he felt a pair of eyes watching him.

The eyes belonged to a woman in armor who was leaning on a crate, watching. She was perhaps a little younger than him, dark-haired and terribly scarred. A veteran, from the way she seemed at home in her armor. He tipped up the wheelbarrow and leaned on the handle. “Can I help you?”

“Warden Blackwall, yes?”

“That’s me. You are?”

“Katje.” She jerked her head towards the stables. “Let’s get out of the snow.”

Inside the stables, it was a bit warmer—though not by much. Katje sat on a crate, and Blackwall took the rickety chair. He’d have to reinforce it, he thought. He suspected it was just a little loose. “You’re the Inquisitor’s partner, right? What can I do for you?”

She was studying him with a look in her eyes that was, frankly, a little unnerving. The scar on her face twisted the corner of her mouth up, giving her a permanent half-smile. “How long have you been a Warden, Blackwall?”

He thought carefully. “About fifteen years or thereabouts. Spent most of my time being a lone recruiter. Why?”

“Seems an awful long time to live a lie.”

The world went suddenly bright for a moment. Then he gritted his teeth. “I _am_ a Warden.”

Katje quirked the corner of her mouth. “No. You’re not. You wear the uniform, but you aren’t one of us. We can feel it, you know. The presence of other Grey Wardens _sings_. What did you do, steal some armor off a dead Warden and then just avoid talking to anyone?”

He just stared at her.

“You’re a _Warden_?” he asked, finally.

“Not all Wardens wear the armor,” she said. “I should probably re-introduce myself. Grey Warden Kathil Amell, Hero of Ferelden. At your service.”

There was a litany of _oh shit oh shit oh shit_ in the back of his head. “The Hero of Ferelden is a mage.”

She gave him a look and lifted her gloved hand. A spark danced between her fingertips. “And not all mages wear robes and use staffs. As the Hero of Ferelden, I am politically inconvenient to the Inquisition. As Katje Hawke, partner of the Inquisitor, I am part of the background.”

He sagged a little, and the chair creaked. “I…probably should have expected someone to figure it out sooner rather than later.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t give you away.” Her eyes glinted. “Yet. I am curious, though. Why pose as a Warden? Other than the fact that you seem to be pretty good at fooling normal people. Conscription is for life, by the way. We don’t conscript people temporarily and then let them go.”

He looked at her and struggled for words for a moment. “The Wardens are good people. Heroes. They give their lives to protect people from the darkspawn. I wanted to…”

_To be a hero._

_To be a good person._

_To be someone other than the miserable felon I was._

“I wanted to dedicate myself to something bigger than I was. To protect people. They have _honor_. Warden Blackwall was going to recruit me. We were ambushed, and he was killed, and I didn’t know what to do next. I wanted to join the Wardens, so I just…did.”

It had been all too easy to slip inside the man’s life. To watch how the expressions on people’s faces changed when they saw the uniform. The Wardens were respected. _He_ was respected.

The corner of Kathil’s mouth twitched. “Except that you appear to have mistaken the Wardens for something other than they are.” She was so still, her gaze boring a hole into him. “The Wardens care _nothing_ for honor. We only care about protecting people when we can kill darkspawn while we’re doing it. We are _duty_ and nothing more. We are ancient treaties and necessity and _blood_. Always blood. You’ve never seen _us_. Only our shadows.”

“You saved the _world_ ,” he said, shaking his head. “You saved _everyone_.”

“I did,” she said, and her voice was low now. There was a cold, inexorable tone to her voice. “Not by choice, but by necessity. And the moment the cheering stopped, I was forgotten about. Eventually, my own Order tried to have me killed.” She shook her head at his questioning look. “It’s a long story. But I am here to tell you that we are not noble, nor honorable. We are _monsters_. We are the wolves who guard the door, because we have a dim memory of once being domesticated. We do what is necessary. Sometimes, what is necessary is putting Taint-infected children to the sword. Sometimes, we abandon people that need help.” The scarred corner of her mouth twisted. “What you did was to take the respect the Wardens earned with their lives, their futures, their _families_ , and claim it for your own. It’s easy, isn’t it? So much easier to be a good person when people respect you.”

“I was a _murderer,_ ” he blurted. “Becoming a Warden was a second chance.”

Her lips pressed together for a moment. “You should stop talking,” she said. One of her hands was curling into a fist, and there was a sour, sharp smell in the air. Blackwall shut his mouth. “The funny thing about this is that you’re _exactly_ the sort of person the Grey Wardens take. The ones who like shortcuts to power, who will do whatever is necessary to accomplish their goals. You just covered it up with ideas about honor and nobility.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m conscripting you. Settle whatever affairs you feel necessary. Your Joining will take place tonight.” Kathil shoved herself off the crate and stood.

“You're…making me a Warden?” he asked, scarcely believing his luck.

She snorted. “Yes. We’ll see if you survive. Don’t mistake this for a pardon, Blackwall or whatever your name is. If you survive, you’ll find out the price of that respect. And if you die…” Her smile was thin and full of blades. “Live or die, you’ll pay the price for what you’ve done.”

She walked out, leaving Blackwall behind.

_Live or die, you’ll pay the price._

He’d hoped this day would never come. But it had. Blackwall— _Rainier_ —looked up at the darkening sky. He had time enough to clear out one more stall.

And then he would see, wouldn’t he?


End file.
